


The way we used to be

by travellerintime



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 14:51:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/travellerintime/pseuds/travellerintime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've been here before, before Hell, Ruby and Lisa. Before they became aware of the fact that angels were watching their every move, before the lies, the torture and the blood. They've been here before. Kisses fueled by adrenaline in dark motel rooms, clothes ripped off in desperation and then discretely thrown away in the morning and Sam, so help him, miss it. He misses every filthy part of it but he can’t go there. He can’t, because Dean is drunk out of his mind and he won’t remember. Meeting Dean’s unknowing eyes in the morning would hurt more than the longing ever could. Pretending it doesn't happen is just fine with Sam just as long as they are pretending it doesn't happen together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The way we used to be

Sam doesn’t like it when Dean drinks. He doesn’t like it at all but it’s not for the obvious reasons. Sure he’s not crazy about the crankiness the day after, the bar fights or the calls at the ass crack of dawn from Dean asking him to come and pick him up at random girls addresses, but all that he can handle, he’s used to it, after all his Dad was just the same. What Sam can’t handle, what Sam really dreads is something that he never had to deal with when it came to his dad and it’s something that recently have started to happen more and more frequent as Dean’s consumption of booze and pills started to increase by the week .  
It’s when Dean is about four drinks passed the point where he, despite his looks, is unable to get a girl to take him home and he can’t focus long enough to start any fight worth the name. It’s when he’s so drunk that any normal human being would have passed out but Dean never does, he just keeps going. That’s when Sam usually gets a call from someone else asking him if he’s Sam and if he would be so kind to come and pick his brother up from whatever bar he happens to have sauntered into earlier that night or they will have to call the police or maybe even an ambulance.

When the phone rings at 1.30 in the morning Sam knows it’s going to be one of those nights. It’s too early for Dean to be calling from some hookup wanting to get out of there before she wakes up and too late for him to call just to ask if Sam wants him to pick something up on the way back. When Sam flips the phone open and answers with an exasperated “What?” there’s a woman’s voice on the other end asking if he’s Sam. When Sam confirms that he is she says “I think your boyfriend wants you to come and pick him up…he’s a little out of it”. Sam just sighs and says “I’ll be right there” and flips the phone shut.  
Sam finds Dean hanging over some poor girl half his size that’s desperately trying to keep him vertical but failing miserably. Sam’s guess is that it’s the same girl who made the phone call earlier. Sam stalks up behind Dean and firmly grabs him around his chest and lifts him off the girl. “I’ll take it from here” he says to the cute and relieved face below. Dean, who is now hanging from Sam’s arms, turns his head and looks at Sam over his shoulder. A drunken smile splits his face and he calls out “Saaaam” like he’s actually surprised to see him. Then he turns back to the girl with a smug expression and says “See, I told you he was beautiful, didn’t I?” She smiles a little embarrassed and nods and Sam shoots her an apologetic smile over Dean’s head before he starts half dragging half carrying his brother out of there.  
“Do you love me?” Dean asks once they’re on their way back. He’s fingers painting patterns in the frost on the window. Sam shoots him a glance from the corner of his eye and answers “Of course I do Dean, you know I do”. Dean scoots closer on the bench, so close in fact that his entire body is lined up with Sam’s from shoulder to foot and leans in, warm lips against Sam’s ear when he says “Then why do you keep turning me away?”

This is one of the things that annoy Sam the most. Dean never remembers acting like this the day after which makes the whole thing impossible to really talk about, but once he’s in the same state of mind again he seems to have at least a sense that this has happened before.  
“I’m not turning you away Dean, it’s just… That’s not what this is about, you know… Look, you’re drunk, okay!” Sam leans his head against the window, trying to get away from the lips and the warm puffs of air against his neck. “That’s one lame ass excuse” Dean whispers but he scoots back to his own corner and thankfully stays quiet for the rest of the way back. 

You see they’ve been here before, before Hell, Ruby and Lisa. Before they became aware of the fact that angels were watching their every move, before the lies, the torture and the blood. They’ve been here before. Kisses fueled by adrenaline in dark motel rooms, clothes ripped off in desperation and then discretely thrown away in the morning and Sam, so help him, miss it. He misses every filthy part of it but he can’t go there. He can’t, because Dean is drunk out of his mind and he won’t remember. Meeting Dean’s unknowing eyes in the morning would hurt more than the longing ever could. Pretending it doesn’t happen is just fine with Sam just as long as they are pretending it doesn’t happen together.

The second Sam lets go of Dean to open the motel room door Dean stumbles backwards, trips and ends up on his ass on the curb. He throws his arms up in the air and he laughs. He really laughs, that heartwarming laugh where he throws his head back and the lines at the corners of his eyes spreads out like sun beams. Sam has to stop what he’s doing, door ajar and forgotten as he turns around and looks at his brother. He can’t remember when he last heard the sound of Dean laughing, it’s like he forgot how to somewhere along the road but now he’s not only laughing – he’s laughing at himself and Sam is stunned, mouth half open in surprise and frankly – in awe.

It’s late and quiet and Dean’s laugh fills the air and Sam takes a couple of deep breaths as if he wants to fill himself up with the sound. Dean topples over in the snow, lying on his side curled in on himself, still laughing but the laugh is starting to take on a seriously desperate undertone and that snaps Sam out of his haze. “Okay, that’s enough” he huffs as he scoops his brother up in his arms “time for bed party boy”. Dean clings to him, arms wrapped around his neck and cold lips pressed against the soft skin above Sam’s collar. Sam shivers a little and he can feel Dean smile.  
Sam pulls the door closed behind him with his foot and carefully lowers Dean onto the bed. Now if Dean would just let go everything would be fine and dandy – but he doesn’t, he hangs on. Face too close to Sam’s as his eyes searches Sam’s for something, anything.

“I miss you” he says and Sam laughs and answers “I’m right here you moron, now let go so I can get you out of these wet clothes”. That’s not what Dean meant and Sam knows it but he isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say so he starts pulling Dean’s clothes off. Dean is quiet the whole time and uncharacteristically helpful. Lifting his hips and raising his arms to help Sam get his clothes off. Sam pulls a clean and dry pair of boxers and a t-shirt from Dean’s duffel and gets Dean dressed and under the sheets and blankets.

“I miss you” Dean says again and reaches for Sam’s face. Icy cold fingertips trailing down the side of Sam’s face and Sam closes his eyes. He can’t do this, how is he supposed to fight this when it’s all he ever wanted. “I miss you too” he chokes out and leans in to the touch though he knows he shouldn’t. “Then stop fighting… Sam, please…” and that’s the final straw, the straw that breaks Sam’s willpower into tiny little pieces and scatters them across the floor. Dean’s never gone this far before. He’s called Sam his girlfriend, groped, teased and stolen kisses when Sam was unprepared, but he has never ever begged and Sam is helpless against that kind of attack.

When his lips meet Dean’s it’s like his world falls back into place, suddenly the earth is spinning the right way again and Sam trembles with the impact of the whole thing. Dean opens up to him, lets him in like he belongs there and maybe he does, maybe this is exactly where he should be, everyone else be damned. Sam caresses Dean’s tongue with his own, tasting whiskey and smoke, so missed and so familiar. Dean moans and presses up against him and Sam could swear he’s dying, the world might be spinning in the right direction again but it’s picking up speed and Sam pulls back trying to catch his breath. Dean whimpers and pleads, he keeps begging “Sam, please…please Sammy…” but his cock is soft against Sam’s thigh, too drunk and high to make it work and Sam says “No Dean, not tonight” because he still got some sense left in his head. 

Dean stills and looks up at his brother. Eyes wide, glazed over and impossible green when he whispers “Why not?” He’s disappointed, Sam can tell so he just says “It’s not no forever, just for right now. You are too drunk to remember and I don’t wanna pretend alone”. Dean watches him, his eyes darting across Sam’s face trying to make sense of what Sam just said and Sam can see when understanding dawns on him. Dean’s eyes go soft around the edges and he smiles a little crooked smile. “Come here” he says and pulls Sam back down, rolls them over on their sides and tucks his head in under Sam’s chin.   
When morning comes and the sun paints a street of light across their room, Sam is already awake. Dean is too but he pretends he’s not. His lips are warm and soft against Sam’s chest and he keep inching closer, holding on tighter, grinding an impressive hard on against Sam’s hip and Sam can’t help the smile lighting up his face because this game he knows the rules to and the fact that they are playing it can only mean that Dean remembers enough from last night to know that it’s okay to play again. The bastard!

Sam tightens his grip on his brother just a little and dares to let his fingers play with his wayward strands of spiky hair for a moment. Letting the feel of having Dean so close overtake him, make him hard. See the unspoken rule has always been- brothers in daylight but lovers, soul mates, whatever you wanna call it in the dark, behind locked doors and lines of salt. Once protected from the outside world, hidden away in their own little cocoon they make their own rules.

When Dean finally decides to officially wake up he scowls up at Sam and pushes himself away “What the fuck Princess? Too scared to sleep in your own bed?” he says as he flings his legs over the edge and gets up. His tone is annoyed but Sam catches the smile on his face just before he turns around and disappears into the bathroom. Moments later Sam has his hand around his dick, stoking with quick, firm stokes, arching slightly off the bed as he comes to the sound of his brother doing the exact same thing on the other side of the paper-thin bathroom door. And for the first time in a very long time Sam thinks that they might just be okay after all.


End file.
